Marvel's Infinity War: Nova
by TheGeorgieB
Summary: This is an original story taking place before, during, and after the events of Marvel's Infinity War, telling the story of an all-new hero rising from the ashes of the Nova Corps. After the decimation of Xandar at the hands of Thanos and the Black Order, the fate of the Nova Corps lies in the hands of their newest recruit: Samuel Alexander, a thirteen year—old boy from Indiana.


**Chapter One**

**Revelations**

Ko-Rel rushed through the winding corridor and towards the Hub, passing Corpsmen and Millenians on her way, who shared their excitement with hushed whispers for the arrival of the newly-promoted Denarian.

Her duties had called her to Knowhere to settle a scuffle between a Sakaaran and a Krylorian in the Boot of Jemiah, which soon escalated into an all-out-war between two rival gangs, and although she had managed to end it without any fatalities, Ko-Rel knew that she could not return to Xandar before ending the gang war once and for all. She had tracked the Tooth & Claw gang to their hideout in the sewers, and after a threatening confrontation with Shakura, their sickly and sadistic leader, convinced her to surrender peacefully.

But now, Ko-Rel was late, and a she hurried through the lower levels of the Nova Corps Headquarters, she only hoped that the Nova Prime would go easy on her.

She took a sharp turn towards the elevator and, failing to notice the figure emerging from around the corner, bumped right Denarian Rhomann Day, who chuckled softly.

"Denarian," he said dutifully, but with a wry smile, not failing to notice that Ko-Rel was late for her very first meeting with the Nova Prime. "We were beginning to wonder if you were having second thoughts."

Ko-Rel straightened her posture. "Not at all," she said sternly, before looking down at her helmet, which she carried under her arm. The sight of the newly-engraved four-pointed star made her proud.

Rhomann smiled before stepping back, and gesturing her into the elevator.

"Have the other Denarians already gathered?" Ko-Rel asked, knowing the answer, but only hoping that she wasn't the only one running late.

"Yup," Rhomman answered. "The Nova Prime has also appointed a Centurion to lead the operation on Spartax."

This was a surprise to Ko-Rel. For the Nova Prime to appoint a new Centurion, entrusting an individual with that much power, was a huge risk, and was the exact reason they'd ended up in this mess in the first place.

"Then things are worse than we thought," Ko-Rel figured, before looking up at Rhomann for assurance.

"See for yourself," said Rhomann, avoiding her gaze.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped into the Hub, which was dimly lit by a blue holographic image of an enormous planet and its ring system. However, stepping further into the hall, the holographic image cleared, and Ko-Rel realised that ring orbiting the planet was actually a line of spaceships circling and forming a blockade around the planet.

"Denarian," called a grave voice from out of the darkness. "It's about time you showed up."

Ko-Rel felt anxious. In the dark, she couldn't even work out how many eyes must have been on her. "Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry… There was a…_disturbance_…"

The Nova Prime stepped out of the shadows, the blue light revealing an unsmiling face. "Yes, the skirmish on Knowhere," she recalled. "You handled it well, Denarian."

Ko-Rel would have called the gang war on Knowhere - which had left her bruised and battered - much more than a skirmish, but she was far too busy feeling relieved to hearing the Nova Prime sing her praises. "Thank you, Nova Prime."

The Nova Prime returned to addressing the room as a whole, and as she looked around the Hub, Ko-Rel noticed about a dozen Denarians spread around the room, their eyes following the Nova Prime as she circled the enormous holographic image.

"The situation on Spartax has changed," she announced. "The Shi'ar Empire have set up a blockade around the planet, and are attempting to force the Spartoi into a peaceful surrender."

The holographic display fizzed, and a beam fired from the surface of the planet shot through one of the spaceships, which erupted in a fiery explosion. The rest of the spaceships began to drop bombs, and the planet was shattered by a series of devastating explosions, as the opposing factions tore each other apart.

"Should the Spartoi choose to retaliate, the resulting death toll would be unprecedented," the Nova Prime informed them as she watched the planet burn until, finally, the holographic image faded away, and the Hub lit up. Looking below her, through the transparent floors, Ko-Rel could see all the way down to the lower levels. Corpsmen rushed to answer the call of duty, and Star Blasters departed from docking stations.

Panels slid open, revealing through the windows Xandar's three suns shining upon the glorious city, which was busy and bursting with life.

"I am assembling a small team of Denarains to infiltrate Spartax, and disable the Royal Guard's artillery," the Nova Prime explained. "As a result, the Emperor will be forced to surrender, and we can end this war before it ever begins."

"And what of the Emperor?" Ko-Rel asked curiously, fearing that nobody else would dare.

The Nova Prime appeared to consider this with great thought, and after short pause said, "If he is willing to surrender peacefully, then he is no enemy of the Nova Corps."

This troubled Ko-Rel deeply, and although she remained silent, she couldn't help but see this as yet another sign that the Nova Prime had lost her edge. It had already taken her this long to be willing to take intervene in the standoff between the Shi'ar and Spartoi Empires, and now she seemed prepared to allow the Emperor's crimes to go unpunished.

This, Ko-Rel could not abide.

"Ma'am, with all due respect-"

Suddenly, a Corpsman burst into the Hub, his eyes wide with fear. "Ma'am, we're under attack!"

Ko-Rel shared a worried look with Rhomman Dey.

"How is that possible?" asked the Nova Prime with great urgency.

"A massive spacecraft just entered the upper atmosphere, and- Oh no," the Corpsman stressed, until a loud rumble interrupted him, and the entire building shook.

An enormous shadow cast over them, and the entire room was shrouded by darkness.

Through the window, Ko-Rel could do nothing but watch as flaming spaceships rained down from the sky, like shooting stars, and came crashing into the city.

From out of the clouds, a gigantic hammerhead ship emerged.

It was a Star Dreadnought, with the capacity to transports thousands of soldiers, and boasting an array of cannons torpedo launchers and warheads.

The ship was built with one purpose in mind: war.

Even though Ko-Rel knew the name of the warlord who had come to decimate their planet, her heart still sank when she heard Rhomman Dey say it aloud in a cold, trembling voice.

"_Thanos_."

* * *

He slipped through the crowd, shoulders hunched, eyes looking down at the floor, until he reached his locker.

Standing at the end of the hallway, Sam slung his backpack from over his shoulder and onto the floor, and began twisting the dial on his locker, when the harsh sound of wood scraping against vinyl caused him to spin around.

Carrying a skateboard under one arm, Finn approached his locker. Even from across the hallway, Sam could hear rock music blasting from the headphones Finn wore around his neck; an apt soundtrack for someone as effortlessly cool as him.

Sam watched as Finn climbed onto his board, and glided down the hallway, until a nearby voice asked, "Are you okay?"

A blurred figure came into focus, and Sam recognised the face of a friend.

"Fine," Sam reassured Brandon, his mind still distracted by the skater boy gliding down the hallway. "Why?"

"Because," said Brandon, his eyes narrowed behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, "that's _my_ locker you're trying to open."

"Oh," Sam uttered, before letting go of the dial, and stepping aside. "Right."

Looking past Brandon, Sam noticed that Finn had disappeared down the hallway, the sound of his wheels rolling on the vinyl having faded away.

"So," said Brandon, "do you have it?"

When he finally woke from his daydream, Sam returned his gaze to Brandon, whose eyes were bulging with excitement. "I have it," he reassured him, smirking.

From out of his back pocket, Sam pulled a piece of paper. As he unfolded it, and the intricate design on the paper became clear, Brandon was in awe.

"It's perfect," he uttered. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed.

Suddenly, a large hand snatched the paper from out of his grasp, and Sam heard the familiar sound of Russell's mocking laughter.

"Hey," Brandon cried, "give that back!"

Russell's eyes narrowed under his ginger eyebrows as he tried to make sense of Sam's crude drawings and scribbled notes. "What the hell is _this_?"

"It's for the Invention Convention," Sam explained.

"_Invention Convention?_" asked Russell, towering over the two boys. "You mean, there's gonna be a whole room full of you nerds?"

Sam had become angry. He'd stayed up all night working on those designs, making those measurements, and drawing out those ideas, and to see the results of his hard work being dangled in front of him was humiliating, to say the least.

Sam swiped, and Russell pulled the piece of paper from out of his reach. "Not so fast, brainiac," he mocked, before folding up the piece of paper and tucking it into his pocket. "This convention… Is there a prize for first place?"

"Nobody's ever going to believe you came up with that idea all on your own," Brandon insisted.

He was right. While Russell's strength may have been comparable to that of a silverback gorilla, his intelligence was even more so.

"Oh yeah?" Russell growled, before grabbing Brandon by his collar, and dragging him closer, almost lifting him off the ground. "We'll see about that," he hissed.

Russell released Brandon, slamming him against his locker. "See you at the convention, _losers_," he said before marching proudly down the hallway.

The school bell rang, and the crowd began to disperse.

"C'mon, Sam," said Brandon, "let's go to class."

But Sam's fiery temper hadn't cooled. Still he watched Russell march down the hallway, his first clenched with rage. "He can't keep getting away with this," he uttered. "Somebody has to teach him a lesson."

"_Somebody_?" Brandon echoed, perplexed by Sam's moody demeanour. "Who? You?"

"Sure," Sam uttered. "Why _not_?"

But before his friend could even talk him out of it, Sam was already pursuing Russell down the hallway and out into the yard, where he noticed a red-headed, broad-shouldered figure, which was unmistakably Russell, striding towards the gym with a confident swagger.

"RUSSELL!" Sam yelled in a voice so load and demanding that it silenced the entire schoolyard.

The bully stopped in his tracks.

Russell spun on one heel, and faced Sam, his eyebrows raised, and an expectant look on his face, as if he couldn't wait to hear what the boy had to say. "What do you want, douchebag?"

All eyes were on Sam. The entire school was daring him to make his next move.

Sam's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he was in a Western.

"You know what I want," he uttered.

Russell smirked. Slowly, he approached, the crowd that had gathered round watching his every step, until there he stood, casting a shadow over Sam large enough to cover him entirely. "And what are you gonna do when I don't give it to you?" he asked, daring Sam, whose heart was pounding.

His fists curled, Sam let out a violent scream as he span on his drove his fist into the air, the sheer force lifting him off his feet, causing him to twirl like a ballerina, before landing clumsily on his ass.

The crowd burst into fits of laughter, but all Russell could do was sigh as he looked down at Sam, his face long with disappointment. "Way to go, freak," he said, before racking his fist.

The punch slammed into Sam like a pile driver, and that was the last thing he knew for a while.

* * *

Sam climbed off his bicycle, leaned it against the shed.

He'd been let out of detention so late that it was already sunset, the sky burning a fiery shade of red over the farmhouse.

Sam was rushing up the porch, hoping to slip into his bedroom before anyone could possibly notice his late return, when a soft voice said, "The school called."

From out of the shadows, his mother stepped. "They said you'd been fighting with one of the other boys," she said, looking down at her son.

Sam froze. "He _started_ it," were the words that left his mouth. He was unsure of what else to say.

His mother sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. She looked tired, bags hanging from under her eyes. "Sam, this is so unlike you," she said, as if she could presume to know him. "You've always been such a quiet boy."

His mother reached out to touch him, but Sam stepped back. "No-" he yelled in a tantrum. "Stop treating me like this!"

"Like what?' she asked, confused and, Sam noticed, frightened.

"Like something's _wrong _with me! Like I'm so fragile I might _break_!" Sam's voice was shaking, and he felt as though he might cry. He ground his teeth until the feeling passed, then said, "I was only standing up for myself."

"I know," Rosie replied, getting down on one knee. "You're a tough kid," she added. "But, just because you're tough enough to go around picking fights with other boys, it doesn't mean you _should_," she said. "If someone was bothering you at school , you should have come to _me_," his mother insisted, before adding, "this isn't how you're supposed to behave." She crossed her arms, looked down at the wooden panels. "If you're father knew what you-"

"If my Dad gave a _crap_ about me, he would never have left," Sam interrupted in a cold, hateful tone, silencing his mother.

He left her alone on the porch without speaking another word.

* * *

Alone on the porch, Rosie picked a crumpled pack of Camels from out of her pocket, and sighed deeply as she lit the cigarette in her mouth.

This hadn't been the first time - this year, this month, or even this week - that she and Sam had argued, and those previous outbursts - just as vicious and just as unexpected - had left her out on the porch, shivering in the cold, watching the stars through a haze of tobacco smoke.

To the south, Rosie could see Orion's belt shining in the late summer sky, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by sadness, reliving the night - last winter - when Sam had pointed out the constellation to her as they laid in the grass, gazing up at the stars.

Rosie could feel the distance between the two of them growing every day, and knew that she had only her herself to blame. _If my father gave a crap about me, he would never have left_, Sam had cried; the cries of a boy whom had never gotten a chance to truly know that man that had been his father, like she had. And what a man he had been.

A shooting star dashed across the sky, fading away as quickly as it had appeared, crossing from one side of their tiny little galaxy to the other. Although she couldn't have said why, it was a sight that filled Rosie with hope. She stubbed out her cigarette, and returned inside.

Moments later, Rosie was knelt over an antique wooden box, hidden away deep inside the closet in her bedroom. From inside it, she lifted a sleek silver helmet, at the centre of which was a red four-pointed star. Yellow streaks overlined the visor, spreading across the helm and into streaks, and when Rosie brushed the helm with her thumb, she wiped away a thick layer of dust. The helmet was rigid and rusty, but staring deep into the visor, His pale, piercing blue eyes returned her gaze.

Rosie returned the helmet, and shuffled through the contents of the box: a Plasma Sphere, an old Quad Blaster, a couple of Black Hole Grenades, and-

The crystal glistened. The sight of it made Rosie's heart race. Gently, she lifted the necklace up over her head, and let it rest around her neck.

She smiled as she stared deep into the crystal. _What do I do_, she wondered. _What do I do about our son_?

A loud rasping on the front door shook Rosie, and when she finally returned from her dreams of knights in blue armour, and daring missions across the galaxy - and back to her farmhouse in Arndale, Indiana, she returned the necklace to the box, and wandered over to the front door, checking the clock along the way: 9 o'clock. A late time to be having visitors.

In her doorway stood a cop she didn't recognise, his face a shadow beneath the brim of his fedora hat, an Arndale Police badge emblazoned on the left shoulder of his blue shirt, and a name tag: HOFFMAN.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said dutifully with a courteous tip of his fedora. He was tall and of a wiry, nimble frame. His face was pale, ghost-like, and he had a long nose and pointed chin. "I'm ever so sorry to bother you at a time like this."

Rosie sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No, that's quite alright," she said, before stepping aside, and ushering the officer into her home. "Coffee?"

Hoffman nodded, silent as his wide eyes wandered across the kitchen.

"Samuel, get down here!" Rosie yelled. She poured a cup of coffee, slid it across the table, and poured another one for herself. "So, I'm assuming the school called you? Or did the boy's parents contact you directly?"

Hoffman was silent, still staring around the room, as though lost in a trance. Realising she had asked him a question, the officer looked over, eyes wide, his face blank. "The parents," he uttered, with an unnerving smile. "They called the station."

"Let me guess… It was the Hendersons, right?" said Rosie, lifting a finger. "Because, I have to say, that boy of theirs has _always_ had it in for Sam… not that I _condone _his behaviour, by any means," she reassured the officer before taking a swig of the lukewarm coffee, wincing at the stinging taste of instant blend. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into him as of late."

Hoffman approached a framed photo of Sam, only four years old, grinning down the lens through crooked teeth. Leaning in, he inspected the photo closely, his eyes narrowed, as though he were trying to recognise a face within Sam's.

"Ma'am," Hoffman uttered, before turning to her, Rosie feeling the weight of his cold stare upon her, "is your son home?"

Slowly, Hoffman's hand slid toward his belt and - Rosie's heart plunged when she realised - closer and closer to the revolver on his hip.

"Scream," said Hoffman as his body began to morph and twist, his pale skin turning a sickly shade of green, and his ears stretching out until they were long and pointy, "and we kill the boy _slowly_."

Quivering in fright, Rosie's eyes were transfixed on the shapeshifter. "_We_?" she echoed.

Suddenly, a large dog-like creature crashed through the front door, landing in the kitchen on all fours. Its green body was thick, rugged, and covered in scales, and it watched Rosie with beady red eyes. Its hands and feet were webbed, and it snarled at Rosie, drool dripping from its fangs. "Where isssss the youngling?" the creature hissed. "I will feassssst on hisssss flesh!"

"Easy, Reek," said a soft from the lounge, silencing the creature, now sitting obediently. Out of the shadows emerged a short,hunched and wiry figure. From atop the creature's round head sprouted a pair of antennae, pointed towards Rosie, at whom the creature stared through a pair of big, bulging red eyes. With its long, pointed fingers, it grasped a blaster. "The boy," the insect uttered in a raspy voice. "Where -tik- is he?"

The insect stood inches from her, its antennae poking at her head. "Go to Hell," she said coldly.

The insect's eyes narrowed. "Suit your -tik- self," it said, before turning to the shapeshifter. "Terrax, if the female -tik- moves, _kill_ her," he ordered.

The shapeshifter rose its weapon, which had transformed from a revolver and into an electroshock baton, which it activated with a violent spark. "You got it, Bugg," it obliged in a gravely voice.

"Reek, find the boy's scent, and bring him to me," the insect instructed, and the scaly dog-like creature snarled in response.

"Wait, don't hurt my son!" Rosie pleaded. "It's his _father_ you want!"

The insect grinned. "Oh, on the -tik- contrary, his _father_-"

But the insect was interrupted by a loud humming, and suddenly, a burst of energy shot across the room, hitting Reek and - in a blinding flash - reducing the creature to dust.

When the haze cleared, Rosie found the source of the blast stood in the doorway.

It was Sam, grasping his father's old Quad Blaster. "Get away from my Mom," he said, aiming the blaster at the insect, who obliged, stepping back and lowering his weapon.

Sam's eyes widened. "Mom!" he yelled in alarm.

Turning around, Rosie saw the shapeshifter, his eyes narrowed and fixed on her as he lifted the baton - still sparking with electricity - over his shoulder, preparing to throw it like a javelin.

She turned to her son. "Sam!" she yelled, nodding at the blaster in his arms. Without hesitation, he threw the blaster across the kitchen. She caught it, twisted around and - not a second too soon - pulled the trigger.

The blast knocked the shapeshifter off its feet, sending him crashing through the window, and landing with a loud thud on the porch outside.

Still clutching the blaster, Rosie approached the insect, who had fallen to his knees. When he noticed Rosie's finger on the trigger, who put up his hands. His eyes were wide with fear. The insect was _begging_.

Rosie pressed the blaster to the insect's head, feeling the barrel getting hot as it recharged. The insect let out a whimper and said, "Please… Don't kill me…"

Rosie's finger hovered over the trigger.

"Mom," Sam said, grabbing her arm, his eyes wide as he shook his head.

"Sam," she uttered in disbelief. "They were trying to _kill_ us. If we let this thing go, it might come back…and bring more of its _friends _with it!" Her hands shook as she clutched ahold of the blaster. "We can put a stop to this right now!"

"Just because we _can_, it doesn't mean we _should_," said Sam, still grabbing ahold of her arm.

Something about hearing her son echo her own words to her caused Sam's heart to sink, and her eyes filled with tears. She lowered the blaster. "Get out of here, Bugg," she said, before gesturing towards the front door.

Bugg, with his hands still raised, rose to his feet.

"GO!" Rosie yelled, lifting the blaster up again and raising it at the insect as if to say, _I'll shoot you if you don't_.

Bugg backed out of the kitchen, before turning his tail, and running out of the front door; disappearing into the night.

Rosie dropped the blaster, still shaking in shock. Sam approached, and picked up the blaster.

"Mom," he said, "I think I'm ready to know the _truth _about my Dad."

* * *

The Insectoid stumbled through the woods. He tripped over a branch, and balanced himself on a tree trunk, when he felt a vibration from within the pocket of his flight suit.

From out of his pocket, Bugg pulled a portable projector, which was flashing red. He pressed a button with his pointed finger, and there appeared the holographic image of a shadowy figure, hiding underneath a hooded cloak.

Bugg was filled with dread. Normally, he never would have agreed to work for a client that chose to remain anonymous, but the units had been too good to pass up. Now, he fired what they might do to him once they found out that he had failed.

"The boy," said the voice, its pitch modulated to the extent that it almost sounded demonic, "where is he?"

"Sir, I'm afraid there was a -tik- _complication_," Bugg tried to explain. "The terrans were _armed_. They -tik- _killed_ Reek."

"I have little interest in the fate of your Badoon companion," the client explained, "what of the boy?"

"He's alive," Bugg admitted shamefully, "as is his mother."

There was a long pause, and Bugg felt anxious.

"I see," the client said. "Then you leave me with no choice."

"Let me go back to Delgado," Bugg pleaded., "I'll assemble a new crew, and-"

"No," the client interrupted. "You had your chance, insect," they said in a sadistic, oddly feminine voice.

"Then what will you -tik- do?" Bugg asked.

"Well, since you have failed to achieve, even in the modest task that was your charge, I have no choice but to kill the boy myself."

The holographic image fizzed, then there was a flash of blue light, and it disappeared completely.

Bugg tucked the projector back into his pocket, and continued to head back to his ship.

Already, the bounty hunter fantasied about being back in his favourite bar on Delgado, with a cold Timothie in his hand. Sure, he'd be a few units lighter than he'd hoped upon his return, but he'd been in the business long enough to know that there were some jobs that you're better off walking away from, and this was certainly one of them.

In fact, Bugg hoped that he never saw that terran boy again.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE.**

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of **NOVA**. Please let me know what you thought in a REVIEW, and let me know if you would like to read more!


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